Written when I was 14.


I am a bedless river,
without sun and fish.
I am only a handful of clay
untouched by the Creator’s hand.
I am a river
streaming from caves of sadness,
sunshine never caressed my waves.
But people found gold ore of kindness
on my shore
and they drained me.
I am a river looking for its bed,
across rocky mountains,
a handful of clay looking for its shape,
maybe to become a jug
to be sung afterwards by Omar Khayam.

The End

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